I used to be certain.
Not just confident or comfortable, but certain in the way only a young person can be when handed a complete system and told it explains everything. I had been taught a theology that divided the world neatly into what was true and what was false. It came with answers for every question that mattered and, more importantly, it came with the assumption that those answers were final.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? It was what I had been given. It felt like truth because it felt like home.
When I listen to people argue about theology now, I often recognize something uncomfortably familiar. I hear the same tone of certainty I once had. I see people defending systems they didn’t build but have fully embraced. They assume their conclusions are objectively true and everything else is objectively wrong.
I understand that mindset because I once lived there.

To see how I’ve changed over time, notice which women I’ve fallen for
Evil and idiocy stripping away veneer of western civilization
Bachmann’s attack on Obama’s TelePrompTer was cynical hypocrisy
I still feel shame for wanting to pursue the desires of my heart
Top secret weapon for homeland security: the ‘Sno-Cone’ machine
‘Dad, is there really a Santa Claus?’ Should we lie to kids or tell truth?
Why is it so hard to make good art? It’s something I’ll never understand